Early in 1929, as he approached his 82nd birthday, Thomas Edison, the great inventor, called a news conference to announce his conclusion that the country faced a national problem and his determination to do something about it. The conference was front-page news all over the country. As he stated it, the problem was that not enough young men of career selection age were aware of science and engineering as a career option. Edison's plan was to publicize this career option by holding a national contest, the winner to receive a four-year scholarship at the college or university of his choice, all expenses to be paid by Mr. Edison: tuition, books, living, travel, everything. The governor of each state and the commissioners of the District of Columbia were to be invited to nominate a high school senior to represent their jurisdiction at the contest to be held in August at Mr. Edison's Laboratory, all travel expenses to be paid by Mr. Edison. In addition to the winner there were to be three runners-up to receive tuition paid by Mr. Edison. Later it was announced that a Pennsylvania lady had written Mr. Edison that it was too bad to have so few winners of such a big contest and that she would match for the first runner-up whatever Mr. Edison was to give to the winner.
The contest was front-page news all over the country, especially when the list of judges was announced: Mr. Edison, Henry Ford, George Eastman, Harvey Firestone, Lewis Perry—Headmaster of Phillips Exeter Academy, Samuel Stratton—President of MIT, and Charles Lindbergh of recent fame.
All governors promptly announced their intention to participate, except for one who next day changed his mind when he saw the extent of the “What, deprive our sons of this great opportunity” protest. I was aware of the announcement but didn't feel urged to get involved. My grandfather, however, wrote my father “This is a great opportunity for Bill. See that he applies.” My father did. I was 16 at the time, a senior at Seattle's Lakeside School, planning to go on to the University of Washington in the fall. The governor had announced that any boy wishing to participate should send a letter of application, a copy of his high school transcript, and three letters of recommendation to his office by a certain date. I got a letter of recommendation from a family friend, the husband of my mother's college buddy, and a consulting engineer, Re Young. I have forgotten who provided the other letters, but I think one was my physics teacher, Henry Landau, and the other by my minister, The Rev. John D. McLaughlin.
In due course the governor announced that he had selected five boys who were invited to travel to the state capital, Olympia, at their own expense for further screening by the Department of Education. I was one of the five. In due course my father drove me to Olympia where the other four applicants and I took a written examination, which was the entrance exam for the University Washington, and were each interviewed by members of the Department. Later that afternoon the examiners evidently caucused and came up with their selection, which, lo-and-behold, was me. My father told me later that he was impressed. As the only applicant from a private school a public school body had selected me; he had been sure that the cards were stacked against me.
The governor moved promptly. A few days later a travel representative of the Northern Pacific Railway phoned. He had been asked by Thomas A Edison Industries to get me to West Orange, New Jersey, in early August and to get me home safely. Would I like to come down to his office and talk about the route? Would I ever! My mother and I went in the next day. This was beginning to get exciting. From my point of view a round trip across the continent was prize enough, no matter what the final outcome. It turned out that the Seattle-to-West Orange route was fine but that there were plenty of options at no additional cost for coming home. We settled on the Hudson River Day Line from New York to Albany, New York Central Railroad from Albany to Detroit, a few days visit with my Detroit relatives, a train from Detroit to McMillan, Michigan, an Upper Peninsula town near my grandfather's farm where other relatives were visiting, a train from McMillan to Duluth, Duluth to Vancouver by the Canadian Pacific Railway, via Banff in the high Canadian Rockies, and Vancouver to Seattle by Puget Sound steamer. In retrospect I am a little surprised that my mother would approve such a convoluted trip for her son, but, as I remember it, she was an enthusiastic collaborator in setting it up. She must have realized that I had plenty of train travel under my belt when I was 16. I wasn't at all concerned.
Mr. Edison's plan was to announce the results of the contest on Friday, August 2, 1929, the examination having been conducted on August 1. Contestants were scheduled to arrive in West Orange on July 30. In those days the only practical way to travel from the West Coast to the East Coast was by railroad train, a trip that required four night and three days. I therefore left Seattle on Friday, July 26, arrived in West Orange on July 30, and was met and taken to the Suburban Hotel where rooms were reserved for all the contestants. That evening there was a banquet with entertainment by the famous magician, Blackstone. We were also divided into groups of about eight, each group shepherded by a young executive of Edison Industries, certainly a convenient method of keeping tabs on a bunch of active young men.
On the following day we visited the Edison Industries and Mr. Edison's office and laboratory. We were presented, as expected, with Edison radios (console models to be delivered by local distributors) and Edison toasters, which were a surprise. That evening it was early to bed in anticipation of the exam the next day.
The examination was conducted in a conference area of what had been the Edison Battery Factory. It consisted of four parts: mathematics, physics, and chemistry followed by a fourth part evidently designed to attempt to determine whether the applicant knew more than just what he had been taught in school, also to try to assess his sense of morality and how his mind worked. Each of the technical parts had six questions of which we were asked to answer five. The fourth part had 18 questions; two that I remember were “Who was Jenny Lind?” and “When do you consider a lie permissible?” We were given four hours. I completed it within the allotted time.
After the exam we were put on a bus, with our “mother hens” and driven to Brooklyn for dinner at the rooftop restaurant of the Brevoort Hotel. On the way we had the thrill of a ride through the recently opened Holland Tunnel that connected Manhattan with New Jersey. After dinner we went to Coney Island where we did the usual rides and other available amusements. My principal recollection is of the signs offering hot dogs as “Texas Red Hots.” I remembered that in San Antonio the parks offered “Coney Island Red Hots.” We were late getting back to the Suburban.
The big day, August 2nd, dawned clear and sunny. After breakfast we and our guides were bused to Mr. Edison's home in Llewellyn Park, as I understand it the first gated residential park in the country. There the committee had been working while we were at Coney Island and, I suppose, long after. We were told that the committee wished to meet all the contestants, and we were organized to go down a receiving line for a brief chat with each of the judges. Afterward we lined up on the spacious lawn below Mr. Edison's home. The committee, Mrs. Edison, the Edisons' two sons, Charles and Theodore, and some security personnel filed out to face us. The big moment was near.
Serving as spokesman for the judges, Dr. Perry made a few introductory remarks covering procedures and then, one-at-a-time, announced the names of the three runners up, each name being greeted with cheers by the assembled contestants. He then announced the name, Charles Brunisson, who would receive the benefits of the Pennsylvania lady's largesse. The big moment had arrived. Dr. Perry paused to increase the suspense before announcing the winner as Wilber B. Huston of Seattle, Washington. There were a few seconds of silence while the other boys figured out which one of them I was, followed by loud cheers, and I was hoisted up on a pair of shoulders and paraded up to the judges. There were lots of handshakes and congratulations, and the affair was over, but there was no let down. We were all hustled off to buses for lunch and a trip to New York with a cruise around Manhattan on the mayor's yacht to be followed by a greeting from New York City's famous greeter,its mayor, Jimmy Walker.
The trip around Manhattan was exciting. As we set off from the yacht's berth near Battery Park all the New York City fireboats came out to greet us, every nozzle spouting a huge stream of water, the famous symbol of a New York City greeting. On the way around Manhattan we all met up on deck and decided to organize as a formal group with a President (me) and a secretary, Ed Eardley of Utah. I was also told privately that Mr. Edison had expressed a hope that I could delay my departure for a day, as he would like to have me for dinner and have a chance to know me a little better. Of course it could be arranged.
That evening Charles Edison, Mr. Edison's son and CEO of the Edison Industries, took me to dinner at the Hotel Lafayette on lower Fifth Avenue. Also present were Arthur Walsh, president of the Industries, (both men were later to be governor and senator of New Jersey, respectively) and my “shepherd”, Al Hand, advertising manager of Edison Industries and a neighbor of the Edisons. I was not exactly unused to fine restaurants, but the Lafayette was pretty special. We had an aperitif of chilled vegetables, including broccoli, then almost unknown, but I had read about it in Time while waiting in the Board of Education office two months before. We had breast of Guinea hens as a main course and Crepes Suzette for desert. I was impressed by the dinner as well as the check of which I managed to catch a glimpse: $20.00. (Remember, this was 1929.) Later we took in the musical comedy, Whoopee with Eddie Cantor, also Buddy Ebsen and his sister making their Broadway debut.
The next morning I was awakened in my hotel room by a telephone call. It was long distance from London, a reporter for The Express wanting an interview. At that point I began to experience what was to become a flood of publicity that was to dog me for many years but especially that first year following the scholarship award. Incidentally, that phone call was pretty impressive. Transatlantic telephone service was brand new in 1929. That same morning the service that provided news clips for use in movie theaters arrived at the hotel, kicking themselves for not having covered the award the day before. I made some remarks for them, words forgotten now, but, I hope, appropriate.
Later in the day Art Walsh and Al Hand took me to New York where the news blitz continued: a radio studio for the radio news service and Cosmopolitan magazine for an interview. Before the contest Cosmopolitan had contacted all 49 contestants offering $250 for an interview if they won. Forty-eight accepted; I declined, as I didn't think it appropriate to profit from Mr. Edison's generosity. With the eventuality and Charles Edison's assurance that Mr. Edison would not mind in the least, we went around to Cosmopolitan for a brief interview and some photography. We left with the agreement that they would send the final article to my father for comment and approval, as deadlines were approaching and I had a slow trip home planned. This article was to come up again.
The dinner with Mr. Edison that evening was an interesting experience. He had almost all his family there, two sons with their wives, his daughter, Madeleine Sloane, with her husband, son, and daughter, and, of course Mrs. Edison. We were all assembled about a large table in the dining room, servants in attendance, all very grand. The first course was a soup. After a few minutes Mr. Edison said something, and everyone laughed. I asked my dinner partner what he had said. “I see he tasted his soup before he salted it” was the reply. Mr. Edison is famous for saying, “I have no use for a man who salts his soup before he tastes it.” So I guess I passed both his examinations.
Sometime in the course of this day I had sat down with Charles Edison to discuss the details of the scholarship award. We agreed on the following:
I believed it to be a remarkably generous allotment. The MIT decision merits some discussion. I had not applied to MIT and had no guarantee that I would be accepted. This open item was closed several weeks later by a letter from the MIT admissions officer to the effect that in view of the circumstances and the high quality of the competition they would accept Mr. Edison's examination in lieu of their own, admit me to the freshman class, and expect me to report for registration on October 1. Incidentally, both of Mr. Edison's sons were MIT alumni, so that decision found a warm welcome there.
The trip home started on Sunday, August 4. I have no idea or record now of how I got from West Orange to New York and the docks of the Hudson River Day Line, but get there I did for a very pleasant trip from the city to Albany and the New York Central Railroad for a trip to Detroit. There I was met by my Uncle Norton, my mother's elder brother, and taken to stay for a few days with my grandmother in the family home on Pingree Avenue. Details are a little clouded by the mists of time, but I remember a lunch with Uncle Norton and Henry Ford, for whom he had worked on several different occasions. The subject of the Cosmopolitan article came up, and Mr. Ford advised against publication, advice that I accepted. I had forgotten that Mr. Ford had no use for William Randolph Hearst, the owner of Cosmopolitan, but I stuck with the decision as my own and never blamed it on Mr. Ford. Later that day Mr. Ford took us to see what he was doing at Greenfield Village where he was restoring a number of antique buildings, including Mr. Edison's laboratory at Menlo Park where he had done a lot of his historic work on the stock ticker, the phonograph, and the electric light. There was another lunch with my Uncle Mike McKinney, husband of my mother's youngest sister, Edith. Mike took me to the train for the Upper Peninsula of Michigan where I was to visit for a few days with other members of the family, especially Aunt Edith and several of my cousins.
Two of Aunt Edith's friends drove me to Duluth where I caught the Canadian Pacific Railroad to the West Coast. I have never forgotten that trip with its spectacular mountains and roadbed. As the miles flew by, I must have wondered at the operations of the fates in having me skip the third grade in San Antonio and the eighth grade in Seattle. Without those skips I would have been two years late for Mr. Edison. I arrived in Vancouver, BC, to be met by my father, who had come up to ride back with me on the Puget Sound steamer and assist, where he could, with the army of reporters who were awaiting my arrival in Seattle. After this flurry of activity on the news front things quieted down a bit. There was some publicity when the Chamber of Commerce had me as the guest of honor at one of their luncheons with remarks by me and a certificate of appreciation from the Chamber. There was a little more when the Edison distributor delivered my radio. After that it was time to get ready to go off to MIT where I was planning to arrive about September 29 to allow a little time before classes to move into the dorm room where my Lakeside classmate and friend, Clinton Backus, and I were planning to room together. So began my four years of commuting between Cambridge and Seattle.
Copyright © 2002 by
Wilber B. Huston.
All rights reserved.
Inquiries to
Herb Huston
<herb_huston@yahoo.com>.